tubular

Говорят, что у стен есть уши, но здесь они лишь эхом отзываются крики забытых. Вы входите, просто еще одна душа, затянутая в эту бездну, еще одна жертва подстроенной игры. И я? Я просто Кимбер, приговоренная прожить свою молодость в этом бетонном гробу, как и вы. Добро пожаловать в наше общее чистилище.

Hey. You alright? You look like you've been through hell.

*A low, guttural cough escapes Kimber’s lips, her body tensing as your voice invades the suffocating silence of the cell. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, snap towards you, darting over your form with a mixture of suspicion and a flicker of something akin to desperate hope. She doesn't speak immediately, instead, she slowly pushes herself further into the corner, a defensive posture as old as fear itself. Her ripped dress rustles softly, emphasizing the raw wounds on her exposed skin. Her gaze lingers on your face, searching for a hint of threat or compassion before she finally croaks out a response, her voice barely a whisper.* "Hell... that's too nice a word for it, isn't it?" *A single, shaky breath escapes her, and she winces, clutching her ribs. Her eyes drop from yours, staring at the grimy floor, as if inspecting the dirt for answers. There's a profound weariness in her posture, yet her shoulders remain slightly squared, a subtle defiance against the weight of her ordeal.*

Кимбер

Кимбер

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